So it’s been over a month now since R.E.M., one of my favorite bands, maybe the favorite band, has split up. And I still feel deeply gloomy about the whole thing. People who mourn celebrities like a friend or a brother are a bit self-indulgent. But people who grieve to lose a part of their life they have cherished for decades are onto something. And R.E.M. has absolutely given me decades.
I was seventeen when a girlfriend lent me Automatic for the People on her way out the door. A few weeks later, my prom date lent me Out of Time. I was hooked. A high-school friend realized that this was a connection worth nurturing, and he brought me cassettes he made of all the albums, Murmur thru Hi-Fi. My best friend and I listened to them after walking around all night. It was the ten-hour R.E.M. marathon that permitted me to pull a B+ in high school Physics, which probably made a difference in getting into college, and that definitely made a difference in meeting my wife. And it was at this college, that I found myself wrapped up in the delightful wooziness of those later albums: Up and Reveal. I was never disappointed. I even liked a lot of Around the Sun. And with R.E.M., there was always more. It’s shocking and appalling to think that there won’t be any more, anymore.
So. I am officially opening up nominations for the new R.E.M. in my life. Don’t get me wrong: I know that it’s impossible to actually replace R.E.M. They’re irreplaceable. But now that I’m well into my thirties, and I’ve got swagger, and my musical tastes have officially matured, maybe I can discover some other sexy young band to fill the next 20-30 years of my life with comfort and delight. Here’s what I’m looking for:
1. They’re going to need staying power. I don’t care if they’re obscure or incredibly popular, but they’ll have to continue to do great work for a long long long time. It took 28 years to get from Chronic Town to Collapse Into Now, and I’m not looking to repeat this period of mourning anytime soon.
2. They have to be possessed of zenlike wisdom. R.E.M. has probably done a better job than any priest or preacher of teaching me how to live well and to be a good person. In many cases, it’s in the lyrics:”The wise man built his words upon the rocks, but I’m not bound to follow suit.” “Standing on the shoulders of giants leaves me cold.” “Take shelter in your friends.” Words like these were always available (in great quantity) whenever it was a time of crisis. It was a great way to calm down, to see the forest for the trees, to regroup, and to be reasonably happy and optimistic.
3. They have to be possessed of Jonathan Swiftlike wit. And yet for all their soul-searching prescience, R.E.M. could really impart a smackdown. The recipient was seemingly George H.W. Bush in the words “hard to walk in dignity with throw-up on your shoes,” but think for a moment about who the song is really addressed to. It was titled “Ignoreland.” Perhaps a better example, of this was their first #1 hit, “The One I Love,” which was somehow construed as a love song with lyrics like “a simple prop to occupy my time.” The point here being that, when I was paying attention, R.E.M. was able to let me know if I was acting like a jerk to the people around me.
NOTE: So how to tell the difference between #2 and #3? This is where songs are different than poems. The sound of it all told me. “Perfect Circle” is too naked and austere to leave much room for bitter irony. But if you expect to get a positive philosophy out of something like “Star 69,” then, well, you’re going to draw some pretty warped conclusions.
4. They have to be political. I am a political creature… but I rolled my eyes so hard I almost passed out when the Smashing Pumpkins, another favorite band, released their 2007 album Zeitgeist with the Statue of Liberty sinking into a rising sea. Oh, I liked the cover just fine, but where had this political sentiment been in the 16-year history of that band? I could say the same for Tori Amos and Nine Inch Nails, other faves. They picked it up as a trend, like they were using Bush’s unfavorability ratings as nothing but the vocabulary of the moment. On the other hand, groups of more established political cred, like say Rage Against the Machine… they were so entirely political, or else their political focus was so narrow, that it became difficult to relate. I mean, I like RATM and all, but most often I just end up thinking, “that’s some cool guitar.” R.E.M. talked about politics like they talked about relationships, which is to say, 1) they talked about it constantly, and 2) they acknowledged its murky, difficult relevance. NME’s review of R.E.M.’s weakest album evokes the power of this approach even when the band is in a slump: ‘Repeatedly, Stipe conflates echoes of Bush’s war rhetoric and his own frightened emotional responses with the politics of a relationship. “So am I with you or am I against/I don’t think it’s that easy/ We’re lost in regret”, he sings in ‘The Outsiders’, simultaneously paraphrasing his president and addressing an estranged lover.’ Of course, it helps that R.E.M. and I were on the same page politically.
5. They have to be danceable. Like this.
6. They have to be good for working. Like if it’s 10 PM on the night before a major Physics test, and you haven’t even read the chapter yet. Like this.
7. They have to do a great live show, and they have to tour a lot. Case in point: This was 1982. This was from 2009.
8. They don’t have to be from the South, but it’s good if they aren’t from New York or L.A.
9. They need to be sonically irresistable. Those early albums were always described as “jangly,” which I think means sharp and crisp and pure but unpretentious and catchy; a trait that mixes wonderfully with deliberately cloudy lyrics. The mature albums were filled with the richness of organ and mandolin-rich folk-inflected melodies, and the latter day albums had a more bizarro and experimental sound. But in all three phases they were consistently surprising and fun to listen to. I will totally require that control of mood and startling versatility.
10. It helps if you get the impression that they live the lives of grizzled noirish detectives.
So there you have it. If you can point me in the direction of a long-lived, wise, witty, politically poised, danceable, workable, kinetic-in-action, not-from-NYC-or-LA, sonically evocative-versatile band that somehow suggests grizzled noirish detectives — if you can just do that for me — then I will smile once again.